


Who's a Lumberjack Now?

by UltimateFandomTrash



Series: SPN Hiatus Creations 2018 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s12e07, Episode: s12e07 Rock Never Dies, Gen, Humor, just a little bit anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/UltimateFandomTrash
Summary: Sam and Dean go shopping for new clothes to fit in in LA.





	Who's a Lumberjack Now?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for week two of SPN Hiatus Creations. Prompt: pseudonyms and disguises.

“Dean, do we really need another new disguise?” Sam asked as his brother dragged him into yet another store. According to him, they’d been unsuccessful with finding what they needed at the previous one. “We bought some clothes just a few weeks ago.”

“And?”

“And, we look fine as we are.”

This store was different from most of the ones Sam had been in. The floor was hardwood oak, the cut of each block obvious since there was a pattern that alternated between the lines in the wood running vertically and horizontally, and there were stylish clothes arranged neatly on different racks and hanging from the black walls. Some of the clothes were displayed on mannequins, which were on marble stands streaked with gold. They were even backlit, making them stand out more, or to Sam, look more unattainable. There was a women’s section off to the right, which also had some displays of jewelry that flashed and reflected the light when looked at from certain angles, and the men’s section off to the left still looked impressive - leather jackets in different styles and cuts and a few different colors, v-neck t-shirts that he assumed were way overpriced, and jeans with tears in them, each one most likely carefully planned out. There were some accessories too: belts, vests, hats, even scarves. All of it looked extremely expensive, and Sam had to resist rolling his eyes.

They were greeted by a young man who stood at a counter with a cash register off to the left, and Sam noted that his clothing didn’t look nearly as expensive as what could be bought in the store.

Dean pulled him a ways down the center aisle before placing Sam in front of a mirror. He had to stand a significant distance away from it to see the top of his head thanks to his towering height.

“Look at yourself,” Dean said. “The kinds of people we have to talk to for this case, do you really think they’re gonna wanna talk to you when you look like that?”

“Like what?” Sam asked, pulling on his jacket self-consciously. “I look fine.”

“Plaid, Sam. It’s the plaid. And the goddamn utility jacket. Seriously, the people around here, the ones who know what we need to know, are gonna only pay attention to us if we look important. Not like…”

Sam turned to Dean, a smirk on his face as he realized one reason Dean might be so worked up about them finding new clothes. “A lumberjack?” he supplied, remembering Castiel’s comment from earlier.

“I don’t… we don’t look like lumberjacks,” Dean shot back.

“Uh huh. You sure that’s not what this is about?”

Dean gave him a look that Sam knew very well. It was the same expression he always had when he knew he wouldn’t be able to come up with a good enough lie to throw him off.

“Pfft… Yeah.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You know why.”

Instead of giving in, Dean just pat him on the shoulder and said, “Be careful, your face might freeze that way,” and then set off towards a rack of leather jackets.

Sam sighed before following him.

It was difficult finding a new pair of jeans that were… whole, and even more difficult to find a shirt that Sam actually didn’t mind spending money on. Some of them were flashy, with weird designs and even some bling. It was weird to him, but he knew it was above his nonexistent paygrade to be able to judge anyone for being into those kinds of clothes. Dean seemed to be having a blast, trying on sunglasses, and excitedly showing Sam, even putting a scarf on and then dramatically throwing one end over his shoulder as he twirled to face him.

He smiled and spread his hands out. “How do I look?”

“Like you’re wasting time,” Sam told him as he picked up a leather jacket that he actually really liked. The store didn’t have a lot of options for him in his size, but this one wasn’t too bad.

In his peripheral vision Sam saw Dean take his sunglasses off, and then he stomped over.

“Look, you’re allowed to have some fun, you know that, right?”

“With Lucifer on the loose… again? Fun seems kinda impossible,” Sam told him, pretending to look at something on the tag, not wanting to look Dean in the eye. 

He didn’t want his brother to see the jolt of fear that had gone through him from thinking of Lucifer. Because that’s what they were in LA for. To take care of Lucifer. Sam didn’t know how they would do that, or what that would entail, but they’d tracked him here, and they just had to do something. So to him, buying these clothes wasn’t fun. It was a task, because Dean was right, the person they had to talk to next would be more inclined to talk to them if they looked the part of two aspiring rock stars. So he’d buy these ridiculously expensive clothes, and do the job.

“Dude, if you’re not gonna have fun now, then when? The way I see it, there’s always dark crap we gotta take care of, so just try to fit it in. It’s called multitasking.”

Sam didn’t bother mentioning the other reason he hadn’t been able to really enjoy things lately, the fact that he’d been tortured just a few weeks ago. Dean seemed to think his physical injuries being healed meant he was all good, so Sam pretended that was true. Besides, they had work to do, so he tucked it away along with everything else, but it made it hard to feel much of anything, really.

He glanced down at the jacket Sam was holding and then said, “Dude, you gotta try that on. You’re gonna look so badass.”

And then he went off again.

 

Dean didn’t get what Sam’s issue was, and he saw his brother looking at everything with little interest. Sure, maybe he was scared they were gonna face Lucifer again, maybe he was still a mess from Toni. And Dean knew the importance of their new disguise, but he was enjoying his time in the store. This was the first time they’d ever been in a store where the price tags were in the hundreds, so he was enjoying it, and he wanted Sam to enjoy it, too. But his brother’s heart wasn’t in it. Still, he was going to try.

So while he picked out a few things for himself to try on, he also grabbed some stuff for Sam. And if he didn’t want to try it on, he’d make him do it.

Dean made sure in the changing room they got stalls next to each other. Usually he wouldn’t say anything while they were trying on new clothes, but Dean didn’t like how quiet Sam was being.

“Everything fitting okay?” he asked.

“Jeans are tight.”

“It’s LA. They’re supposed to be tight.”

Dean pulled on a red v-neck and then threw on a black leather jacket over it, the shoulders having a diamond pattern cut into it. The shirt pulled at his chest more than he liked and felt a little tight around his shoulders, and he smirked at his reflection at the fact.

_Guess LA dudes aren’t as built as I am._

Still, he looked good, and decided he wanted to show Sam. Hell, he wanted to see Sam’s outfit.

He left the stall on knocked on Sam’s next to his.

Sam opened it, poking his head out, his hair a bit of a mess.

“Yeah?”

“Come on, I want to see your outfit.”

“Really, Dean? How old are you?”

“Uh… counting Hell, um… 77.”

“You sure you’re not a teenage girl?”

He held up a finger and said, “Hey, don’t diss my inner teen girl.”

Sam laughed at that, and Dean was relieved to hear such a sound from his brother even though it was short-lived. He stepped back, allowing Sam to come out. He was wearing a similar outfit to Dean’s except his shirt was a forest green, which made Dean start laughing as a ridiculous idea came into his head.

He combed a hand through his hair as he said, “Dude, if you’re gonna laugh, I’m not gonna show you anymore of my outfits.”

Instead of responding to that he stood beside Sam, put an arm around his shoulders, and then looked at their reflections in the mirror at the far end of the changing room.

“Look!” he exclaimed, pointing at their shirts. “Christmas!”

“Oh my god.”

And then Sam was pulling away from him and going back into his stall.

“Wait, no, no! I was kidding.” Nothing from Sam. “You will show my your other outfits, right?”

To his surprise his brother poked his head out again and then told him, “I take it back. You’re not a teenage girl. You’re ten.”

He smiled, and closed the door again.

“And what gender?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Dean shrugged.

_Good point._

He went to put on another shirt, this one somehow too big, either that or it was cut wrong because it was plunging like he had goddamn breasts he wanted to show off. After frowning at his reflection he started taking his shirt off, but then he thought otherwise. Maybe he could get Sam to laugh.

This time Sam had finished before him, and was leaning against the wall across from his stall, one foot up against the wall, his arms crossed.

Dean jokingly whistled, and exclaimed, “Looking sharp!”

He was pretty sure he was still in the same pair of jeans, but this time his shirt was a deep blue and he was wearing a dark brown leather jacket.

Sam just laughed at seeing him.

“I’d say the same, but…” He gestured at his shirt. “What the hell is going on there?”

Dean put a hand on his hip and thrust it out, dramatically looking to the side. “ _Fashion_ is what’s going on here.”

“Uh huh. Be careful, your boobs might fall out of your shirt. Or better yet, match it with those booty shorts you wear for washing the Impala.”

“They’re not booty shorts. They just show off my legs.”

Sam gave him a look that was _almost_ his bitch face, and Dean wasn’t sure if he was amused or exasperated.

“They’re booty shorts,” he shot back with confidence.

Dean didn’t have a good comeback, so he just imitated him in a whiny voice, “They’re booty shorts.”

Sam smiled and then looked down at his jacket. “I might get this outfit.”

“I don’t know,” Dean answered honestly.

“But you said I look good in it.”

“You do. Definitely. But it doesn’t scream _rock star_.”

“Okay, then what screams _rock star_?”

“The jeans are good,” Dean started, “but maybe try a white shirt, and stick to black for the jacket.”

“White? That’s boring.”

“It’ll look good on you.”

“Fine. Since you’re apparently the fashion expert here,” Sam conceded, kicking himself off from the wall, and going back into his stall.

“It’s an art.”

They tried on a few more outfits, Sam sticking to white shirts like Dean had suggested. Sam didn’t seem comfortable in a v-neck, so he wore something that was a little higher, and Dean ended up with a black v-neck and the leather jacket he’d tried on first. They each got a pair of sunglasses as well.

After paying with their fake credit cards, they went back to their motel room to change. Dean stood in the mirror admiring himself and Sam squeezed in next to him, trying to see how he looked as he put his jacket on. 

Dean grabbed his sunglasses from where they were hanging on his shirt, and then put them on, smiling at their reflections before saying, “Who’s a lumberjack now?”


End file.
